


Orange Blossom Honey

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Life
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Fruit, Plot What Plot, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He kisses her, and it tastes like oranges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange Blossom Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the porn battle X prompt: Charlie Crews/Dani Reese, fruit, fingertips. Thanks to Nichole for looking it over.

Other people would go out for a drink or ten after the few days they've had. God knows, Dani wants one in a way she hasn't in a long time. Instead, she finds herself standing in Charlie's kitchen as he peels an orange. The smell takes her back to the grove, the phantom brush of his fingers against hers as they traded places in Nevikov's SUV. Now, she watches his fingers on the small paring knife; the spiraling curl of peel looks like a lantern, bright as the light overhead.

"Oranges are berries," he says, putting the knife down and dropping the peel onto the counter.

"I didn't know that."

"Now you do." He separates the orange into sections and closes the distance between them. She can smell his sweat underneath the sweet scent of the orange. She opens her mouth to tell him she doesn't want any, and he slides the section between her lips. Her lips brush against his fingertips as they close around the orange. He doesn't let go. He holds her gaze, his eyes curious and intent.

She bites into the fruit, sweet juice spurting against the roof of her mouth, and he smiles.

He takes the other half and puts it in his mouth. "Good, isn't it?"

She nods and swallows, licks her lips for stray drops of juice and the slim possibility that she can taste him there, but she can't. Her disappointment doesn't last long, though, because this time when he brings his hand to her face, it's to cup her cheek and trace her lower lip with his thumb. She licks at the pad of it, traces the sticky-sweetness of the orange over the whorls of his fingerprint, tasting the salt of his skin.

"Reese." It's a breath, a puff of air against her parted lips, a question she knows how to answer.

She leans into his touch, inhales his exhale. "Crews."

He kisses her, and it tastes like oranges, like sunshine. Like life and fear and partnership and trust.

He presses her back against the counter and she lets him, parts her thighs so he can stand between them, his other hand coming up to tangle in her hair. He holds her, makes her feel safe, comfortable, but she also feels like she could get away if she needed to. She likes how he does that, how he understands that she wants to be held, not caged.

Dani doesn't know how long they stand there trading orange-flavored kisses. She just knows that at a certain point, it's not enough. She tugs his shirt out of his pants, gets her hands up underneath, and feels the laughter vibrate through him before she swallows it down. He unzips her pants and shoves them and her underwear down before he hitches her up onto the countertop. They tangle over her boots, around her ankles, so he steps over them, trapped between her legs. She likes him there more than she ever expected she would.

She leans back, laughing at his murmur of protest, and unbuttons her blouse, shrugging it off her shoulders so he can push the straps of her bra down and lick her breasts. She runs her fingers through his hair and arches into the wet heat of his mouth, pleasure arcing through her tight and hot.

He curls two fingers into the hot slick between her legs, fucking in and out of her slowly, thumb brushing lightly over her clit, making her gasp.

"Crews," she says, and then, "Charlie."

He looks up at her, his eyes wide and blue, and his lips red and wet from kissing her, and says, "Dani."

"More," she says, and "harder." He adds a third finger, flexes his wrist and curls his fingers up inside her, another wave of heat blossoming under her skin when he hits the right spot, over and over.

She comes, clenching hot and tight around his fingers, pleasure shuddering through her as hot and addictive as the best single malt scotch. Better even, because she can share it with him.

He brings his slick fingers to his mouth, starts licking them clean, and she grabs his wrist, pulls his hand to her mouth so she can taste herself, salty and oceanic, mingled with the sweetness of the orange.

"Fuck," he says, his voice low and darker than she's ever heard it. He fumbles in his pocket for his wallet and pulls out a condom. She takes it and laughs. His mouth quirks in the charming grin she's come to know so well. "I like to be prepared."

The humor in her voice matches his. "I appreciate that."

He makes quick work of his belt and fly, and she's surprised to see blue cotton boxers--she figured him for silk or something. He pushes them down over his hips while she carefully tears open the foil packet and eases it onto his dick, admiring the hard, hot weight of it in her hand. He makes a strangled noise, which sends a thrill through her.

"Come here," he says, hooking his hands behind her knees and helping her scoot forward on the counter.

The tile is hard under her ass, but she doesn't care because it feels ridiculously good when he pushes inside of her. She tilts her hips up to get him in deeper, hooking her legs around his hips and crossing her ankles over the backs of his thighs.

He fucks with the same focus he does everything else, his gaze holding hers for as long as he can keep his eyes open. She rolls her hips in response to his thrusts, squeezes tight around him and holds on for the ride when he speeds up. She reaches up and drags him down for a kiss, sucking his tongue into her mouth, moving to the same rhythm as his cock in her cunt. She's going to have bruises on her ass later, and his fingers are digging into her hips, but it's worth it to watch him, to hold him while he comes apart, his mouth hot and wet over hers, the low choked sounds he makes as sweet as music to her ears.

She slips a hand down between them, and he tangles his fingers with hers, brings her off again with rough, steady touches to her clit, and she presses her face to his neck, breathing him in, as she trembles through the aftershocks.

He strokes a gentle hand through her hair, down her back, holding her close for a few minutes and they breathe together, slowly coming back to earth.

"I'm gonna--" He gestures towards the used condom. She nods, laughing, and pushes her sweaty hair behind her ears. She slides down off the counter on shaky legs and reaches down to pull up her pants. "Let me help you with that," he says, thumbing the crease where her leg joins her body, fingers stroking softly over the sticky hair between her legs.

She laughs. "Crews," she says, shaking her head. "You're incorrigible."

"I can be taught," he says, and she hears the promise in the words. She kisses him again, smiling against his mouth. "You want to take this upstairs?"

She can write this off as adrenaline or comfort sex, but if they go upstairs, that changes things, makes it premeditated, deliberate. There are all sorts of reasons it's a bad idea, but she likes how easy he makes it to say yes, how she knows it means something (means everything), but he's not going to push if she's not ready.

"Okay," she says. She reaches up and brushes his mouth with her fingertips. He kisses them softly. "Wait," she says as he moves towards the stairs. He looks back at her over his shoulder, curious. She snags the orange off the counter. "In case we get hungry." She grins. "I like to be prepared."

He nods in approval. "I appreciate that," he says, and leads her up the stairs.

end

~*~


End file.
